


Resolution

by Auggusst



Series: Heart and Mind [20]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, BAMF Tony Stark, Baby Peter Parker, Bond Sickness, Crying, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Long awaited reunion, M/M, Men Crying, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Reunions, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Vulnerability, Wakanda (Marvel), resolutions, self hatred, team cap comes home, there's so many fucking tears, wow it's finally happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:02:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: After months of hardship and misery and despair, Steve and Tony finally meet again, face to face.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Heart and Mind [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670740
Comments: 89
Kudos: 331





	Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> !!!!! BRO!!!! WE'RE HERE!!!  
> I started plotting this series in January, and now 9 months later, we've reached this particular fic. Ironic, huh?! I'm surprised I've written so much, that I actually managed to get here. Thanks to everyone who is keeping up with these fics! I love all your comments and how invested you all are.  
> There's a chance not everyone will be happy with the way things happen in this fic, and you know what? That's okay. Life isn't always fair, and this series definitely isn't fair, but hopefully this fic is cathartic and enjoyable nonetheless. Enjoy!

By the time they reached the Wakandan border, Steve was at his wits end.

He couldn’t recall ever feeling so lost, so _scared_. With each passing day of their journey, dodging surveillance cameras and stealing food, and transportation, keeping out of cities and towns as much as possible, the panic only seemed to increase in Steve, to consume him. He was constantly on edge, barely spoke, and when he did, it was in pinched, harsh tones, barking out orders, because everything about the situation was unpleasant. Everything.

He hated himself. He hated that it had come to this, that he’d screwed up so bad. _How_ had he screwed up so bad? How had he taken everything he’d been given for granted, had been so willing to throw it all away in a few moments of cloudy judgment? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to his team, and most of all, it wasn’t fair to _Tony_ , who had been so scared of letting Steve get close in the first place, who had been convinced that it’d be more trouble than it was worth.

Maybe he’d been right. Maybe Steve was nothing more than a harbinger of destruction, of misfortune, and he’d been too prideful, too self-assured to see it. He had ruined Tony’s life, had made things infinitely harder for him when he’d already been through so much, and no matter what Steve did, he couldn’t take it back.

He wanted to talk to him so bad. He wanted to hear Tony’s voice, to know that he was okay. He hoped and prayed that this sudden misfortune wouldn’t wreak too much havoc, on Tony or the baby, but judging by the sinking feeling in his chest, and the feverish haze that settled in him, stronger than he anticipated, his prayers were ignored once more.

He barely slept. He needed less sleep than the others to begin with, but now, with all of this on his mind, with the sense of urgency, he had half a mind to trek on ahead, to forgo sleep entirely in favor of travelling. He was a super soldier, and Sam and Natasha weren’t though. They just physically couldn’t keep up with him. He tried to keep it in mind, knew he had to, but couldn’t help but pace, irritated, anxious, whenever they stopped to rest.

He felt like more of an animal than a man, honestly, every thought and desire fixed on a singular point, a singular objective, as if his survival depended on it. Each passing day brought more frustration, more urgency. At least a dozen times, Steve thought about abandoning the plan, taking his risks with the UN and calling Tony from a pay phone.

He wished he’d been caught, when the jet crashed. Even if he were in prison now, he’d be close enough for Tony to visit, be able to see him, talk to him, even if Tony stood on the opposite side of the cell and cursed him, yelled at him, threw every harsh and biting word he could think of in Steve’s face, alongside the list of his failures. At this point, he’d welcome the punishment, welcome the prospect of Tony damning his name, if only he could _see_ him again. He didn’t deserve to see him, he knew, with all of the mistakes he’d made, but that didn’t stop him from wishing anyway.

If only he’d made another choice, that day in the snow.

He thought about it, the night before they reached the border, staring up at the stars. He could still hear, could still count the strikes of his shield, the amount of force it took to off-line Tony’s suit, to end it all. He remembered the hatred, the pain in Tony’s eyes when he’d walked away, the way it felt, when he abandoned his own mate.

 _‘I shouldn’t have done it,’_ Steve thought for the millionth time, tearing up clumps of grass around him where he sat on the ground. _‘I should have never met him. He would’ve been better off without me.’_

His regret, his self hatred, only heightened when they made it to Wakanda, and he’d heard what Tony had done.

He expected to have to do some groveling at the border, despite T’challa’s insistence that he was welcome to visit, or even stay, just as Bucky could, but as soon as he and his companions were recognized by the local guards, they were greeted, given food and water and put on a transport ship headed to the capitol, for an audience with the king.

Sam removed his wing pack, flipped through channels on the jet’s holovid as one of their escorts tended to Natasha’s cut. It had avoided infection, thankfully, but still looked pretty bad. Steve sat with his hands clenched so tight that his bones were protesting, but he couldn’t seem to unclench them, to settle down. His gaze burned a hole into the floor.

He didn’t know how much longer he could take, waiting to get there, to contact Tony. What would he even say when he did? No apology he could offer would be enough, he was sure. Tony would hate him, withdraw all over again, turn cold and distant like he had been mere weeks ago. All of the progress they had made would be gone, he was sure of it. Steve had fucked up one too many times, and he couldn’t fix it. He hated it.

Steve felt out of place, standing in the luxurious palace again, after so many months. He felt out of place in Wakanda in general; it was a different world, a better world, which didn’t belong to him. It was big and beautiful and filled with wonder. Wakanda was a beacon, an example for the future. The Alpha was a relic of the past, which, he now thought, he should have been lost to.

He wasn’t sure if seeing Bucky again, after all this time and everything that had happened made him feel better or worse.

He looked good. Healthy. His eyes were still distant, a little sad, but the smile he gave Steve was genuine, standing beside T’challa and Shuri. He’d obviously made progress, as the monthly emails Shuri sent their little laptop indicated. Steve wished he’d been able to correspond directly with Bucky, to tell him everything that had happened, but he thought it was best to keep his distance, to allow his friend’s treatment to do its work, to heal him.

Although they doubted the UN was keeping tabs on Wakandan servers (T’challa’s father had been the most ardent supporter for the Accords in the first place) it was better to be safe than sorry. Apparently T’challa hadn’t been spared meetings and visits and questions over the last few months either, so their caution wasn’t unfounded.

Steve’s smile for Bucky melted away almost as quickly as it came, as he remembered what they were dealing with. There was a lot to catch him up on, and Steve wasn’t even sure how he could say it all. Bucky would surely be disappointed in him too, once he knew everything, knew about the baby. The conversation would surely be unpleasant, only add to the ever-growing pile of guilt gathered beneath Steve’s feet. It would have to wait for later though. The greeting, and hug they shared was short.

“You look like hell,” were the first words out of Bucky’s mouth, and Steve scoffed a little. At least he hadn’t changed too much.

“Feel like it too,” Steve replied, lingered in his arms for a second.

At least his friend, his brother for all intents and purposes, seemed okay. That was all the comfort Steve thought he’d get for the rest of his days, knowing that he had saved Bucky, that he had given him a chance at happiness. He didn’t have time to dwell on it though. Urgency led Steve on, made him turn to the king.

“Thank you for letting us come here,” Steve started as he drew back, nodding his respect to T’challa.

“I told you the last time we saw each other, you and your team are always welcome to stay, even if you are technically criminals now. I’m honestly surprised it took this long for you to accept the offer,” he replied.

“We’re stubborn like that,” Natasha offered, smiling a little. It was a tired smile, because she _was_ tired. They all were.

“We wouldn’t be here at all right now if it weren’t an emergency,” Steve agreed, his eyes flitting to Sam, and then back to T’challa. “We’d never want to give the UN reason to be suspicious, but I—we—don’t have anywhere else to turn.”

The Alpha raised a brow, regarded their grim expressions. “What do you need?”

“I need Tony,” the blond blurted out. That wasn’t exactly what he meant to say, and he shook his head at himself, tried again. “I-I need to call him, on a secure line. It’s an emergency.”

“An emergency?” T’challa prompted. His eyes swept over Steve’s form, how different he looked since the last time they’d seen each other.

He looked….well, homeless, for one, as his whole team did, but sicker too. Of course he was still a walking slab of muscle, with poster-boy features, but his skin was a little paler, sickly, and his hair long and kind of dark, and his beard clearly needed attention. He looked unkempt, a little wild, a little _feral_. His suit was torn in a few spots. The bright star on his chest was gone; maybe he’d pulled it off himself, stripped it away like his identity.

He looked like a haunted, broken man, and it wasn’t nice to look at. Whatever emergency he had to address was clearly of utmost importance, because the desperation in his eyes, on his face, was apparent.

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “I—he—“ He paused.

Was he _allowed_ to tell? Did Tony want anyone at all to know about their Bond Sickness, or the baby? He’d already said he didn’t want the media getting a hold of the news, and Steve doubted T’challa would spread information like that, or Shuri for that matter, but what about anyone else? Was it even Steve’s news to tell? Instinct told him it wasn’t.

“It’s a matter of health,” he said instead, and hoped that would be enough.

“That much is clear,” Shuri piped up at her brother’s side, looking them all over. “You look terrible.”

Sam managed a huff of laughter. It was barely a laugh, but something about it soothed Natasha, and would have soothed Steve under a different circumstance.

“Please,” Steve said, tone pleading. “I need to talk to him as soon as possible. I had a secure phone, but I lost it, and we were being chased. I couldn’t risk walking into a store and trying to buy a new one. Couldn’t risk a pay phone because—”

“The United Nations has been monitoring communication lines,” T’challa finished for him, nodding a little.

“They asked for access to our satellites, to strengthen their reconnaissance capabilities,” Shuri explained. “We decided against it, and that horrible man, Secretary Ross threw a fit about it. His face got so red he looked like a tomato.”

“He wasn’t the only one disappointed by our decision,” T’challa added. “But we did not share our secrets with the world to fill it with more oppression. Oversight is necessary, yes, but all things must have their limitations.”

“That’s a lesson we’re starting to learn,” Natasha said, face grim.

Steve’s face only fell more, his expression full of guilt and desperation. “I need to talk to him,” he said again. “Please.” Every second that passed without a phone in his hands made him feel more panicked, more helpless.

The king, thankfully, nodded. “Follow Shuri to my office. There you can—“

The Kimoyo beads on his bracelet began to glow, vibrated softly, diverted his attention. He lifted his wrist, and raised a brow. “A priority update from the United Nations panel,” he explained.

They all exchanged glances. Steve thought his heart had stopped. What could it be now? Was it some horrible news? Was Tony okay? Was Steve too late? His mouth went dry, and he could feel his pulse all the way down to his fingertips.

T’challa made a gesture with his hand, and a holographic projection sprung up from his bracelet.

It was a standard briefing, in format, but its contents were anything but the ordinary. This document was of supreme importance, and was about to change everything.

T’challa read the words to them all out loud.

_“As of today, the United States instituted warrant for the arrests of Avengers Captain Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, and Natasha Romanov has been revoked. In exchange for their official pardons, Avenger Tony Stark has agreed to the following concessions:_

  * _The development of a new satellite with enhanced reconnaissance abilities for the purpose of international security, monitored by Mr. Stark himself and a small group of panel-selected individuals._
  * _The development of a small arsenal (between three and five devices) under contract in conjunction with the United States Department of Defense for the purpose of threat de-escalation._
  * _The development of a patented state of the art medical aircraft for the purposes of evacuation and treatment of civilians in Avenger-related disaster zones._



_In exchange for these concessions, Avengers Captain Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanov are to be reinstated as members of the approved Superhero Response Team, if and only if these individuals sign and swear in a court of law to adhere to the newly amended regulations of the Sokovia Accords._

_These individuals, having signed the Accords, will be allowed to return to the state of New York, where they will concede to a probation period of six months, being unable to leave U.S soil, and being closely monitored by pre-approved teammates (Tony Stark, Colonel James Rhodes, and The Vision) as well as government officials (United States Secretary of Defense Thaddeus Ross.) After this probational period, these individuals will be allowed to continue Avenger work alongside their colleagues, when and only when the United Nations panel sees fit._

_The disregard or intentional disobedience of these terms will result in immediate incarceration within the international facility codenamed The Raft. Refusal to sign the Sokovia Accords within 14 days of being made aware of these concessions will also result in immediate reinstallation of the arrest warrants and immediate incarceration once apprehended. In either instance, imprisonment will be indefinite._

_Immediately after the release of this document, an official announcement will be broadcasted on various international news outlets in an effort to alert the aforementioned individuals of the situation. The specific concessions of this new deal, entitled the Redemption Treatise, will not be publically released._

_The search for Captain Rogers and his companions will continue. Deadly force is no longer acceptable. Peaceful apprehension of these individuals is now of top priority.”_

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Steve couldn’t have felt smaller if he tried, and the same was said for his companions.

This…there were no words for this. Steve couldn’t even open his mouth to speak, felt his heart clench and eyes burn, with confusion, and relief, and most of all, guilt.

Tony had done this. Tony had done this _for them_. He’d sat down, made sacrifices, agreed to things Steve _knew_ he couldn’t be happy about, because he hated working for the government, had promised himself that he wouldn’t do it again, but here he was, _forced_ to do so because of Steve, because he’d left, because the phone was gone and Tony didn’t see another way out, another way to get him back.

All of this was Steve’s fault. All of it. He already had so many things he could never repay Tony for, and now here was another. God dammit. God _dammit_. If he had just waited, just a little longer. If Steve had gotten here sooner, been able to call sooner…

“Fuck,” Steve breathed, his voice wavering.

His companions didn’t have any words to comfort him. Natasha felt just as guilty as Steve was looking, had for a while now, and Sam was still trying to process the whole thing, couldn’t imagine the desperation Tony felt for him to agree to something like this. It was tough to take. Yes, they were no longer wanted, and could come home, but…but what was it all for?

What had they spent the last few months on the run for? Their pride, and nothing more? Had they made a true, irreparable mistake, with no way to repent? Had they made things worse, for everyone, for _no reason_? The thought that everything had been for nothing, that they were truly in the wrong, made him feel more shame than he thought was possible.

T’challa and Shuri weren’t sure exactly what to make of it. What had prompted such a sudden change of heart, such a hefty decision out of nowhere? What did Steve have to tell Tony, that was so urgent? Did it have something to do with this? The Alpha wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask. The look on Steve’s face was far more raw than he was comfortable with. It was better to carry on with business, like they were doing before the document came in.

“Well, at least you’re all here, except for miss Maximoff,” he started. “That makes it easier to discuss your decision and response.”

Steve ran a hand over his face, swallowed back tears. “I need—I need to talk to Tony,” he reiterated. “Everything else can wait. It has to.”

Thankfully, nobody protested.

“Follow me,” Shuri announced.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

_“Hello?”_

The world seemed to melt away entirely. Just one single word cut through the pain in Steve’s neck, the fear and tension and anger he’d been suffering through this week, though it couldn’t cut away the shame, the guilt, and the ache of regret.

“T-Tony…”

 _“Steve?”_ Tony’s voice wavered, shocked, relieved, and frightened all at once.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, let out a shaky breath. “It’s me. It’s me. I’m so _so_ sorry, sweetheart—the phone—I tried to—“

 _“Seven days,”_ Tony interrupted. _“It’s been seven fucking days. Where were you?! I couldn’t find you, I couldn’t track you. I-I thought—“_

“I couldn’t risk calling you until I got somewhere safe. I tried to get here quick, I tried so hard, it just—we couldn’t use the roads half of the time. I wanted to call, I really did. I’m so sorry.”

_“Where are you? Where the fuck are you? Who’s phone is this?”_

Steve’s eyes drifted around the beautiful, quiet office room he was standing in. Bucky and the rest of his team were waiting outside the door, he knew, but they felt miles, light-years away.

“I’m in Wakanda. T’challa gave me a secure line. I called as soon as I got here. Are—are you okay?”

It wasn’t good enough for Tony. _“Am I okay? No I’m not fucking okay! Do you have any idea what this week has done to me? What’s happened?”_

“I—We saw the Treatise announcement, just now. T’challa got a message, read it to us. Tony, I—Why would you do that?” the blond asked, shaking his head in disbelief. He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. “Why?”

Tony found fault in that too. _“Why would I do that? Fuck you, Steve! You didn’t give me another choice!”_

“You shouldn’t have done it, Tony! You shouldn’t have made a deal with them for me, for us. It’s not fair to you. It goes against everything you’ve worked for! You shouldn’t have done it. We’re not worth it. I’m not worth it,” Steve protested, because he thought it was true. He didn’t deserve to come home, didn’t deserve to be at Tony’s side after everything.

_“Oh come off it, will you?! It doesn’t matter what I want, what I’ve worked for. All of that’s thrown out the window because of you, because of both of us. I do this for you, for us, and you tell me I shouldn’t have done it? Not even a ‘thank you’?! Damn you, Steve. You don’t know the half of it. You don’t know the half of anything.”_

Steve swallowed hard. It felt like his heart was breaking all over again. These words were well deserved, but they hurt, twisted up inside him and cut at his edges like barbed wire. He didn’t want to argue them, didn’t know how. Hearing that tone of voice from Tony never made him feel good, and now, after a week without contact _again_ , he especially didn’t want to hear it like that.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re right. You were right, about all of it. I’m so fucking sorry,” he replied, his words rushed, insistent.

Tony didn’t say anything for a moment. He was silent on the line, save for his breathing, which gradually got harsher, until he let out a breath to calm himself. There was a pause, between his breaths and Steve’s. Each second of silence made Steve more anxious, more afraid.

_“I had the baby.”_

Steve’s heart jolted, like he’d been struck by lightning. “W-what?” he replied, voice strained, somewhat shrill. The room felt a thousand degrees hotter.

_“I-I had the baby.”_

“A-are you okay? Is he okay?”

Steve didn’t know if he could take the answer. He dreaded it, more than any moment he’d endured in his life. What would he do? How could he take it if something was wrong, if this latest slip up, the loss of the flip phone, was at fault for more suffering? How could he take it if Tony hated him even more? And the baby… If—if there was something wrong, if he didn’t make it…

 _‘Oh god,’_ Steve thought.

_“He’s sick. He’s sick because of you, because of us. He’s sick because you’re not fucking here, and he’s going to stay sick until you’re here. He’s got fucking Bond Sickness, Steve, and you’re going to get rid of it.”_

Steve tried to process that, tried to understand. It was a lot to absorb in a few seconds, after everything that had been happening, and he wasn’t sure if he could. He couldn’t identify a single emotion at the moment, all of it mixed around and so complicated and strong that tears of confusion were swimming in his vision and he couldn’t stop them from falling. “W-what— I thought—“

_“That’s why I made the fucking deal. I made it for my son. Because he needs you here, physically, and you’re too stubborn, too stupid to get home without my help. You’ve ruined so much, fucked me over again and again and again, taken and taken from me, and now this. I won’t let anyone take this. You’re gonna fix this, you hear me, Steve?_

_You’re going to get your ass on a plane, sign those documents and save my fucking baby, because nothing else matters now, you got that? Not your deluded fantasy of running around and being a hero, dodging the law to uphold your morals. Not whatever part of yourself you’re trying to chase, whatever part you thought you were missing, that you couldn’t find at your own mate’s side. You owe me this, Steve Rogers, and you’re going to deliver.”_

Steve didn’t know what to say. His stupidity had not only damned Tony, but their child too? Their baby was suffering, was sick, because of Steve’s mistakes? Because he’d been gone all this time? He’d hurt even him? This small, innocent person, the combination of Steve and Tony, who had grown, lived, in defiance of their distance, of their separation? He’d ruined his child’s life before it even began? He couldn’t take that, couldn’t handle it.

On top of everything he’d brought upon himself in the last few months, that hurt most of all. He’d been given so many blessings, so much to be thankful for, and he’d corrupted all of it, hurt everything and everyone he loved.

And he still got the better end of the deal. He still got let off easy. He’d been pardoned, was being sent home, allowed to come home, to be a father, and to try to make up for it all, because Tony, and the baby didn’t have another option. They couldn’t even be free from him, would maybe never be free of him, and it wasn’t fucking fair to them, and he knew it.

Steve tried to talk, but all that came out was a choked sob.

Tony didn’t offer him any sympathy, merely spoke more words, strong and sure despite the waver in his voice, the exhaustion palpable through the phone.

 _“This is the one promise you’re never going to break,”_ Tony ordered. _“Do you understand me?”_

Steve could hardly get his voice to work. Every bit of him felt swallowed up, distant, gone, like he wasn’t a person anymore. He didn’t deserve to be a person, didn’t deserve anything he’d ever had, anything Tony had ever given him. All that remained were Tony’s words now, his voice, squeezing his heart, and if it weren’t for their keen sting, the Alpha would float away entirely. Steve would never turn from them, from his mate, ever again.

“Yes. Yes. I’ll be there, as soon as I can. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said.

Tony needed more than that, and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. _“Promise me. Promise me right now, with all of your heart, with your whole fucking being.”_

Steve didn’t have to hesitate to give in, to give up. He didn’t hesitate to take the path of least resistance, like he fought against so many times in his life, like he’d fought against months ago, at the start of all of this. Not anymore.

“I promise.”

Bucky was at a loss for words when Steve emerged from the office and explained the situation. He wasted no time standing still, instead relaying his tale alongside swift steps back to the throne room, where he would beg for an aircraft to take him, _them_ , home. Sam and Natasha were equally floored by the news he shared, though they had more information to go on than Bucky did.

He’d spend the last few months recovering, being tested, attending therapy, and soaking in the peace that was offered to him, the respite from the haunting of the past and a life devoted to violence. He wasn’t whole, and there were times when everything felt wrong, or he relapsed, and it all came crashing down on him, but he was okay. He was okay, thanks to Steve.

To hear what Steve had given up in exchange for Bucky’s second chance though, the consequences he had brought upon himself and his companions and his mate, brought on a layer of guilt he wasn’t sure he could shake. He wasn’t sure Steve had made the right decision, in rescuing him in Siberia. He’d given up too much for it, had burned bridges and brought only misfortune, and Bucky couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if it had gone differently, if they had stayed there, tried to calm Tony down, and had the chance to apologize.

By the haunted look in the blond’s eyes, it was clear Steve had asked himself the same question over and over.

“Well, you were always the stupid one,” Bucky sighed, when Steve ran out of words, standing outside of the throne room. Sam and Natasha walked through the massive double doors to relay the situation to T’challa.

“I don’t know how you’re going to figure all this out, but you will,” Bucky insisted. “You always figure it out.”

Steve shook his head. “Tony is…he’ll hate me forever,” he said, eyes turned to the floor.

“If he hated you, he wouldn’t have had your kid,” Bucky reminded him, bracing a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think he’d put himself through this much, _do_ this much, if he didn’t still love you. He’s angry, and fuck does he have a right to be, after what we did, after so much, but you’ll make it work. I think he wants you to make it work.”

Bucky didn’t actually know much about Tony. He’d only seen him a handful of times, had never had a proper conversation with him, and had exchanged more punches than smiles, but he knew a thing or two about people, after all these years and all the training he’d been given. Tony didn’t seem like the type to suffer willingly for something or someone he didn’t believe in.

Steve tried to take his words to heart. He was probably right; he usually was. He couldn’t manage much more than a nod, an attempt at a smile which fell flat.

Bucky nodded in return, pulled him into an embrace. Steve seemed to sink into it, exhausted in a way that Bucky had never seen him, even when he was small and sick. He wished he could do more to help, but at present, anything he could do or say may be more of a hindrance than anything. Steve had to figure this out for himself, just as Bucky had to figure himself out, his place in the world.

“You love him, right?” he prompted.

Steve nodded against his shoulder. “I do. More than anything.”

“Then you’re gonna get your ass on a jet, go see him, and be the best mate, the best _father_ you can be. Show me, show him that this punk from Brooklyn won’t ever let him down again, for _anyone_ , including me.”

Steve pulled back, brows pinched. “Buck, I—I don’t regret saving you, I could never—“

Bucky shook his head. “Steve, I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me, but I’m not the one you owe anything. You’ve stuck by my side since we were kids. We’re brothers. But hell, you’ve got a family now. You’ve got a _kid_ , and you need to take care of them, like you should have been, like you _would_ have been, if you hadn’t done what you did for me.”

“I…I will,” Steve replied, nodded firmly.

“Good,” his friend said. “And don’t miss me too much while you’re at it.”

The blond managed a smile then, exhaled softly. “I’ll write to you,” he promised. “Now that I’m not a wanted man, I think it’ll be okay to keep you updated.”

“You too, pal. And tell me what the kid looks like. I hope, for the sake of the world that he’s got Stark’s brains instead of yours,” Bucky teased, smiling back himself a little, trying to settle Steve down. He still looked, and smelled, distressed.

“That makes two of us,” Steve sighed. He put his hands on his belt. At this point, he wasn’t sure he had any redeeming qualities to pass on to his son.

“What’s his name?” Bucky asked. The Alpha hadn’t mentioned it so far.

“You know I-I don’t know yet,” Steve admitted, and it made his heart flutter with something he hadn’t felt in so long—excitement. He was going home. He was going to see Tony. He was going to see _their baby_. “I’ll have to wait and see.”

“You won’t be waiting too long,” Natasha interrupted, stepping out of the throne room. She gestured to a little key card in her hands. “We’ve got a ship.”

Sam nodded in agreement, looking equal parts relieved and despondent. “It’s time to go home.”

Home. It still seemed surreal. After all this time, after all the struggling and suffering, they were being welcomed home, forgiven for their transgressions, all thanks to Tony, the very man they had left behind, _betrayed_. There wasn’t anything more humbling than that, for any of them. They would certainly have to work on their apologies during the flight home. Steve had been working on his for months, though he doubted it would convey the depths of his regret, of his gratitude enough. He would simply have to hope for the best.

“Home,” he said softly, and nodded a little. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

Tony thought his heart was breaking. He’d felt that way so many times throughout his life, too many times to count, as long as he could remember, but this time, he well and truly meant it. The phone call, the drafting of the Treatise had been exhausting, had left him with a headache and a raw throat from talking, debating. It left him feeling shame, his pride all but depleted due to the begging, the pleading he had to endure to get any of this to work.

He didn’t want it this way. He never wanted it this way. If it weren’t for Peter, he would have never agreed to any of this. But it wasn’t about what he wanted anymore. It was about what his baby, only a day old now, needed, and Tony would do anything to give him what he needed.

Secretary Ross had been surprised by his sudden change of tune, his sudden willingness to cooperate, but seemed relieved. As long as the matter was resolved somehow, he seemed okay with it. He even offered his sympathies towards Tony when the brunet explained his reasoning, which seemed out of character, but Tony supposed even monsters had hearts.

His body was bouncing back quicker than the doctors anticipated, so at least he had that going for him. Another day or two and he’d probably be able to walk, be able to start properly taking care of his baby. At least evolution had granted him that one boon. Carriers were made for child-bearing, after all. Although it wasn’t without difficulty, he had survived it, and with time, he’d recover.

For now, he was stuck in bed, with his child at his side, either in his arms, or in the bassinet next to him. He hardly set him down. Every moment Tony spent awake was filled embracing him, feeding him, comforting him while the TV on the wall across from him droned on with random movies or shows. Tony didn’t really focus on them. He couldn’t focus on anything but the tiny face staring back at him, the big brown eyes that blinked up at him as he spoke, told Peter how much he was loved, how much he was cherished, and all of the things that he’d soon discover.

Whenever exhaustion truly overcame him, or his medicine ran out and he was the one who needed attention, despite Tony’s protests, Rhodey was there to take over. Pepper was there too, as often as she could manage between meetings and paperwork, and Happy shed a few tears when he came to visit, took about a thousand blurry photos on his phone. Tony was sure one of the photos would end up as the driver’s screensaver, if he remembered how to change it. At least his visit brought some joy. But the sharp edge of despair unfurled in Tony nonetheless as the hours passed.

Peter slept a lot. His tiny body needed plenty of rest to begin with, but with the addition of the sickness, of the fever, he wasn’t as active as he should be. When he was awake, he would sometimes cry in discomfort, cough occasionally between sobs, and Tony would hold him closer, try to convey his love, try to pray away the problem. There was no praying it away, though. There was only one thing that would take this away, that would take all of it away, from both of them.

Steve was on his way. Tony had laid it all out for him when he finally _finally_ called, and although he felt relief, knowing that the blond was okay, that there was still a chance to make things better for their baby, he couldn’t help but feel a storm of confliction.

It’d been eight months since they’d seen each other, eight months since standing in the same room, on opposite sides of a conflict, on opposite sides of a rift Tony had been sure would never heal. How would it feel, seeing each other again? Could it ever feel like before? Would his heart, his instincts allow Steve back in? Or had they truly, permanently ruined everything?

Tony still loved him. He knew that. He knew deep down that he would never _stop_ loving Steve. But would it be enough? Could he forgive him for all that had happened, and could he do it _now?_ It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair_. Tony didn’t have time, didn’t have a chance to figure it all out for himself. No matter how much he wanted to push Steve away, he couldn’t fight it anymore, and half of him didn’t _want_ to fight it anymore.

 _‘Wouldn’t it be nice?’_ the voice in his head told him. _‘To be in his arms, to feel safe, loved, like you were before? Wouldn’t it be nice to be together again, to be able to share the fucking burden, the pain you’ve been in?’_

It would be nice. It’d be easy, so easy, to just fall into his arms, to let out everything that had been building and building and building. It’d be so easy to put himself in Steve’s hands again, to hope, and _pray_ that it wouldn’t end the same way, that he wouldn’t be hurt again.

But were his hopes in vain? Was he just subjecting himself, his child, to more suffering? Would the knife be twisted in his back _again_? He hoped not. He hoped that just this once, this very once, things would turn out for the better, that every price he’d paid will have been worth the cost.

Tony thought about it, over and over again as the hours passed.

He’d sent Rhodey away a few hours ago to get some rest. Tony was comfortable enough in the medbay, and help was only a button press away. He couldn’t deny it felt lonely, though. It was late, later than he wanted it to be, but he couldn’t seem to sleep. He couldn’t seem to do anything but lie there, staring at the vertical blinds covering the window, the slits of moonlight cutting across the floor between their gaps.

Peter was especially fussy tonight. As the hours drew on, he seemed to get worse, each of his little cries piercing a fresh dagger in Tony’s heart, and he could do nothing to make it better. He’d finally gotten the baby to fall asleep an hour or two ago, and Tony intended on catching up on rest too, but he couldn’t.

He felt…overwhelmed, in every sense of the word. It was all so bittersweet. He had a baby. He had a family now, someone to love and take care of. He never imagined he’d be so lucky. But it wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t the way it was for everyone else. _Why_ didn’t he deserve what others had? Why couldn’t things be perfect for him too?

His chest ached. It ached like the day he’d come home, after Siberia. It ached like he’d been struck all over again, like Steve was still straddling him, pinning him to the ground and smashing every bit of him into pieces. Hell, had he ever stopped? Tony wasn’t sure.

 _‘I’m such an idiot,’_ he thought, because he knew, deep down, that if it came to it, he’d let Steve do it all again.

Peter’s sudden whining at his side pulled Tony from his reverie, and he blinked his burning eyes a few times. He flicked on the lamp on the nightstand, leaned over to pull Peter out of the bassinet as he began to cry.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he soothed. “I know, honey, I know.” The Alpha rocked him gently, took his tiny hand in his own.

“I know you’re uncomfortable, baby. You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” Tony said.

Peter looked miserable. His eyes were fixed on Tony now, and he sniffled, his lower lip wobbling in a way that brought tears to Tony’s own eyes. He held him closer, rubbed his thumb over the back of the baby’s hand gently, tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. It was too late though; the cup had boiled over once more, and Tony couldn’t stop it from doing so.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice pinched. “I’m so sorry, baby. This is all my fault.”

A hot tear rolled down his cheek, and then another, and another, and he couldn’t stop them. “I thought I could do it. I thought I could do it all for you. I told myself we didn’t need him, that I didn’t need him. B-but I expected too much. You’re so little, such a little thing, and I-I should’ve known better.”

Peter’s crying had eased off, but Tony’s had only increased. He squeezed his eyes shut, took heaving breaths, the words pouring out directly from his heart. “I-I should’ve swallowed my pride. I should’ve tried harder for you, and—and I’m so sorry I didn’t! I’m so sorry. You need him, and I do too.”

He tried to stifle a sob, but it slipped out anyway, wracked his body with it. He opened his tear-filled eyes, and Peter was looking up at him, all sleepy innocence, and Tony couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m so sorry, baby. You deserve so much better than me. So much better.”

“No one deserves better than you,” a voice said at the door.

It was a voice Tony knew as well as his own, a voice that had calmed him in times of strife, whispered declarations of love, argued with him and broken his heart. It was a voice which nothing could have prepared him for hearing again.

Tony had been so distraught, so consumed by misery, that he hadn’t heard him approach, had somehow missed the familiar, clean-cut and heavy scent, which filled his lungs like fresh air, which made something bloom in his chest which had lain dormant for far too long.

He’d missed the sound of the door opening, hadn’t seen it open either, and the moment he’d been waiting for, whether he liked it or not, for so _so long_ , had come, snuck up on him just like their very first meeting had, had turned his entire world upside down. The moment was here. The moment was here and there was no running from it.

Tony’s breath caught in his throat.

“S-Steve?” he said, and turned his eyes to the door.

He was here. He was really here, standing in the doorway, the light from Tony’s lamp illuminating half of his figure, and the low lights from the hallway bathing his back, casting a shadow on the tiled floor.

He looked like a stranger. His suit was practically unrecognizable, in disrepair, missing pieces, torn in several spots. His hair—it was so long, longer than Tony had ever seen it, and he had a _beard_ , but his eyes…Tony would recognize those eyes anywhere, could feel them peering into his soul, into his very being.

Everything outside of this room, outside of the few feet of space between them, ceased to exist.

Steve took a step forward, and then another, his breathing harsh, shaky, just like Tony’s was a minute ago. His face, still so handsome, still the face of Tony’s mate, was filled with such desperation that Tony could feel it in his own heart, could feel it through the ache in his neck, which seemed to increase _and_ decrease tenfold, turn into something else entirely which he couldn’t give name to.

“No one deserves better than you, Tony,” the blond repeated, voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve the world, deserve everything. It was my job to give it to you. I was supposed to give it to you, and I didn’t.”

Tony couldn’t get his mouth to work. He sat there, clutching his child, wide eyed as Steve spoke, standing but a few feet away, for the first time in over half a year.

“I was supposed to give it to you,” Steve said again, and Tony could see the tears forming in his eyes, spilling over onto his cheeks.

His legs, the legs of a super soldier, of a man with the strength of ten, with the power of a hero, shook beneath him, and then Steve was on his knees near the side of the bed, too ashamed to even look Tony in the eyes anymore. His body was slumped, bent towards the floor, his palms bracing the cold tile beneath him for stability.

Tony looked the same as Steve remembered: big, beautiful brown eyes, an elegant curve of his cheeks, lips that looked beautiful, kissable, even when turned in a frown. He also looked different than Steve remembered. He looked tired, and was sort of pale, the bags under his eyes darkened by his plight, by the sickness they shared, and he wasn’t well put together by any means, just as Steve wasn’t, but he was still the man Steve knew, the man he loved. Just a glimpse of him from the doorway was enough to bring any of Steve’s resolve crashing down. He could only lay himself bare now, as he had the night they bonded, when he had made his first promise. He could offer himself, all that he was, and nothing more, and had to hope it was enough.

Steve had rushed here as soon as they landed on the other side of the Compound. There was no time to change, or to make himself more presentable beyond what he could on the flight over. He could think of nothing else but this moment, of apologizing, and hoping with all of his heart that Tony would be merciful. Steve would sign the Accords in the morning, agree to follow their demands, and so would the others, because there was no fighting the inevitable anymore.

There was no sense in staying apart, making everyone miserable and trying and failing to get a handle of things when everyone was on different continents, when everyone was split apart. They were a _team_ , and it was time they remembered that, like Tony had insisted so long ago. Vision would contact Wanda, explain the situation, and she would be returning to the Compound too. They would all be together, and would have to give their apologies, and then hopefully, they would find a way to work together again.

At first, when arriving in the medbay, Steve thought Tony might be asleep, and was willing to wait outside his room all night if he had to. But when he approached the room, directed by Celene (who not only congratulated him on the birth of their son, but having been present as Tony carried, and having seen first-hand the havoc and chaos, wished him supreme luck in this situation) he could see light filtering under the door, and knew Tony was awake.

His hand shook around the door handle, and he wasn’t sure how long he would have stood there, paralyzed with fear, with anticipation, too afraid to open it. But even through the door he could hear Tony’s crying, thanks to his sensitive ears.

He could smell his scent halfway down the hall already, beautiful and warm vanilla and whiskey, mouthwatering and comforting like no scent Steve had ever encountered, and that, alongside the words he was hearing, the secret Tony was sharing with none other than _their child_ , gave Steve the courage to slowly open the door and step inside. Now Steve was on his hands and knees, trying to stop the world from spinning, trying to plead his case.

Steve shut his eyes tight, shook his head and let the words fall out of his mouth. “I’m so sorry, Tony, for everything I’ve done. I know I’ve said it again and again, b-but I can never express how much I mean it. I don’t deserve you, I never did, and you were right. You were right about _everything_ and I shouldn’t have done what I did, and I-I don’t know how you can forgive me. _I_ wouldn’t forgive me.”

He didn’t stop to look up, to look into Tony’s eyes, because he wasn’t sure he could handle it. He couldn’t handle whatever judgment, whatever disdain was surely present in them now, like there had been upon their last meeting, when Steve had ruined it all. He kept talking.

“I know we may never have what we had. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to let me in again, but if you do, if you give me this one chance, this one _last chance_ , I won’t waste it. I will do whatever you need, _be_ whatever you need, _both_ of you. I know you’re going to yell at me, damn me, and if you could, you would send me away, and I’m _so sorry_ that you can’t, that it isn’t even an option. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you, and if you let me, I’m going to spend the _rest of my life_ , no matter how long it is, trying to make it up to you.”

He took a shuddering breath, waited for Tony’s response. He waited to be yelled at, he waited to be cursed, like he’d been expecting, like he’d been dreading for so long. He waited to be turned away, to be exiled once more, in spirit, if not in body, like he deserved. Instead of cursing him, of damning him, Tony let out a sigh which held the weight of the world, shook his head to himself.

“Shut up,” Tony said after a second or two, and his voice was wavering a little. “Shut up, and stand up, and come here.”

The Alpha struggled to understand. Was this all he would get for the moment? Where were the reprimands? Where was the rightful hatred, the anger? Where was his punishment? Was this all Tony truly had to say to him at the moment? Would the retribution come later? Would he be accepted now, only to be cast out once more in the future? Steve wasn’t sure.

“W-what?” he asked.

“I said stand up, and come here,” Tony repeated, voice a little firmer. He didn’t say anything else.

Steve didn’t waste another second on the ground. He got to his feet, his heart beating fast, and the blood rushing in his ears. There were tears on Tony’s cheeks too, he could see now, and his brow was furrowed, expression a mixture of angry and pained, and Steve’s throat felt impossibly tight. He waited for more. He expected more shouting, more insults, like he’d received over the phone so many times, like Tony should be giving him, but they didn’t seem to be coming.

Tony scooted over on his bed a little as Steve stood dumbfounded. He was careful not to disrupt Peter too much, who was awake, but quiet for the moment. He swallowed hard, silenced the protests in his brain, the memories of pain and suffering.

He pushed away the vision of dark walls, of blood-soaked snow, and his own chest, littered with bruises. He pushed away the words which had replayed so many times in his sleep, in his nightmares, and would surely haunt him even now, even moving forward. He had to push them all away, learn to silence them once and for all, for Peter, and for himself. He had to. There was no way around it anymore. It was time. Tony licked his lips, summoned his courage and…

And held out a hand to Steve.

His fingertips were quaking, but there was assurance, deliberation in the act, and in his eyes. They were dark, and somewhat distant, still wet with tears, but warm, pleading, _yearning_ , and Steve knew then that he could live a hundred years more and never deserve Tony Stark.

The breath rushed out of his lungs on a quiet sob, and Steve moved forward, climbed onto the bed like Tony wanted him to. It wasn’t very big, but there was room enough, and although it was a little awkward with his suit on, he managed, settled at Tony’s side. The feeling of being at Tony’s side, the sensation of their hands touching, was indescribable, intensely overwhelming now. It was more overwhelming than the first time they had ever touched, back on the Helicarrier. Neither would forget it for the rest of their days.

“Put—put your arm around me,” Tony ordered, kind of breathless, but determined.

He wouldn’t let his fear get the better of him now. He drove away his dark memories, the fear and the trepidation and anger. There would be plenty of time to be angry later, plenty of time to speak his mind. There would be plenty of work to do, and Steve was willing to do it, had gotten on his knees and begged for the opportunity. Tony wasn’t sure what else he could ask right now.

For the moment, Tony could be content with his apology, with this first step, because it was best for Peter, who had drifted for a moment or two during all of this, but was now becoming alert again, and looking at the newcomer, his father, with wide eyes.

Steve hesitated just a moment, and curled his arm around Tony’s back, held him close, like he’d wanted to for so long. He took a second to settle, and then looked down, at the little bundle in Tony’s arms, and he finally got a proper look at his son.

There were no words, really, for it, for seeing your child for the first time. It was a privilege he wasn’t sure he’d ever get, and still couldn’t believe he had now. Steve’s world had gone from empty, grey, to warm and filled and whole in a span of seconds.

He was beautiful. He was amazing. He was absolutely perfect. He looked so much like Tony, but there was a hint of Steve in him too, and by the stirring in his heart, the deep-rooted instinct to love, to protect, it was clear he belonged to them, was their child. He was everything they had dreamed about so long ago, that they were convinced would never be theirs, and it was incredible. He was so small, and his cheeks were flushed, and he looked so delicate, so precious. Whatever part of Steve didn’t belong to Tony _certainly_ belonged to this baby.

The blond struggled to speak.

“H—he—“

“His name is Peter,” Tony said softly, glimpsing Steve’s awestruck expression from the corner of his eye. He was familiar with that feeling, had felt it himself a mere day ago, and continued to feel it in small doses as the hours passed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to how it felt, seeing Peter, being able to hold him.

“Oh my god…” Steve whispered.

Peter shifted a little, made a noise, and Tony brushed a hand across his forehead, swept back the small, fine curls of his bangs. His eyes were fixed on Steve now, as if he were the most interesting thing in the world, and Tony couldn’t bring himself to fault the kid for it. Steve had that affect on people. He’d had it on Tony too, more times than he could count.

“Hey, you see him, honey? That’s your daddy,” Tony explained softly. “He’s handsome, isn’t he? Your momma knows how to pick them.”

Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion, and Tony smiled a little. He continued speaking while Steve scoffed at the compliment, lifted his free hand to scratch at his beard, run a hand through his hair. He didn’t feel handsome at the moment, and was surprised that Tony thought him so when he looked like this, but wasn’t going to argue about it.

“He’s also an idiot. He’s the biggest, most stubborn idiot I’ve ever met, but he’s my idiot, _our_ idiot, and…and we love him, don’t we?” Tony asked. Whether he was asking the baby or himself wasn’t entirely clear.

Steve’s heart felt tight all over again though, squeezed into pulp, and Tony’s eyes turned to look at him, properly, face to face, for the first time.

“I love you too,” Steve said without hesitation. “Both of you. So much.”

Tony regarded him for a moment, the exhaustion on his face, the sincerity in his eyes, deep and earnest and beautiful, like the night they’d bonded. Some of the pain in his neck, in his whole body, finally eased a little, and it was easier than he thought it would be to let it go, to _try_ , to let Steve in, at least a little. He couldn’t deny the joy it brought him, the ease, the withdraw of the panic and anxiety that had filled him for so long he’d been more anxiety than man. He was still scared. He was still angry, and he was still hurt, but he was willing to move on from all of that, to _try_.

His eyes took in every detail of Steve’s face, familiar and enamoring, filled with hesitation, with sadness, as Tony’s own was, and decided the war was over. They were here, they were together, and things were _going_ to get better. He wasn’t going to let things stay as they were.

For a second, he got the urge to kiss Steve. He wanted to, wanted to pretend that nothing bad had ever happened at all, that he’d been here the whole time, that they were happy and at peace, but…he couldn’t. Not yet. He knew if he kissed Steve now, his heart would well and truly be lost again, and he wouldn’t be in control anymore. He needed the control. There was a lot more to say, to do. Tony wasn’t going to lose himself so easily again, wasn’t going to fall entirely until he knew for sure things were okay.

Steve seemed to sense that. He glanced at Tony’s lips, just a fraction of a second, and then focused on his eyes instead. He’d always been able to fall into them, to lose himself in them, and doing so now, having the opportunity to, was more than he thought he’d ever have again.

Steve lifted his free hand. He was trembling, hesitant, unsure if he was making a mistake, if he was allowed to do this, but he slowly traced the curve of Tony’s cheek, softly, reverently. He couldn’t believe he was here. He couldn’t believe they were in the same room, let alone so close. He remembered the last time he’d touched Tony, how he hurt him, and vowed never to do so again.

To his full-bodied relief, Tony’s eyes shut, and he allowed the touch, didn’t pull back or growl or push Steve away. He hadn’t growled at Steve at all thus far, and maybe there was a little guardedness in his actions, in his scent, for the most part he simply felt relieved. That relief went both ways. It had only been a few minutes, but Steve was sure he already felt better, and that he would continue to feel better with time.

The rest of the world was unimportant, hardly existed in their minds. All that mattered was the two of them, and the little baby cradled in Tony’s arms, and the renewed promise they were making to each other.

The blond withdrew his hand now, looked down at Peter once more. His eyes had drifted closed again, and though he wasn’t asleep yet, he was calm, content.

The brunet turned to look down at him too, shifted him a little in his arms. To his mate’s surprise, he rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, leaned a little further into his grasp.

“Stay,” Tony said after a second or so. “Stay right here, and don’t you ever fucking leave.”

Steve held him a little tighter in affirmation. The Alpha turned, looked deep into his eyes, and nodded.

**Author's Note:**

> Please please please leave a comment! I've been thinking about this particular fic for so long and am so excited it's here. Let's talk about it!!
> 
> Also don't worry, this series is far from over. There's still plenty of content to come :)


End file.
